True Horror Story Chapter 3 - The Dead Cat

This story i am about to tell you is true. As hard as it is to believe, it is! I wouldn't believe it either if it weren't for one, small, hard to forget fact – I was there! And, I was there because, it happened to me! Can you believe it?

So there I was, I had fallen out of the door and plopped down onto the dirt like an anal baby from a gay couple that was allowed to be married after they stopped Prop 8 and we allowed to be married and make babies. It was beautiful! I looked all around me, wiping myself clean of all the anal leakage that had clung to my misshapen body as I fell through the door, and looked out upon the town – no, village, that I had stumbled upon, complete with cobblestone roads that winded up and down dark streets that were lit with old oil filled street lights that lit all of the dark, dreary ones that scuttle around to and fro to their perspective holes in the walls. The village was black and white and if you could have black and white in color! Do you understand what I am saying? Black and white – in color! Of course you don't. sucks.

So anyhow, there was all sorts of eye candy that was overloading my senses! I saw a man who was sitting on the road who had an enormous belly. The man had no shirt on and in his hand, he held a broken bottle. The man was slicing his naked, hairy tummy with this broken bottle and then continued to "spoon feed" himself the blood and very small pieces of flesh that hung to the glass. Every time the man would swallow, he would say, "Well, thank you sir." And then with his free hand, would shake all of his middle girth and say back to himself in a very deep, but friendly, voice, "Don't mention it old chap. All in a day's work."

How freaking strange I thought. I couldn't believe how polite the two were!

Then I saw a woman lying on the sidewalk, trying to fuck herself with a dead cat. I thought this was most peculiar. The woman had on a dirty blouse and a dirty overcoat and a dirty wool cap with a big dirty blue ball on its top but no pants. The woman didn't even have on any damn knickers. She had on some dirty white stocking that were quitters (meaning that all the elastic had stretched out and now they hang all droopy half way down her shin) but no panties. She was trying to shove this dead, stiffened cat, head first, up inside of her vagina. The woman would say, "Here pussy, pussy, pussy. Here pussy, pussy, pussy." And then she would get very upset and yell, "Get into my fucking box you stupid dead cat!" and she would really try to slam that thing in there. I could tell it was probably hurting her more than the dead cat. Mostly because the cat was dead. I noticed that the stains on her socks might not be dirt and might just be shit. But I didn't want to get down there with my face that close. Not that I didn't want to smell her shitty socks, but more so that she wouldn't try to shove my head deep down inside of her vagina. I wasn't sure if a dead cat could still have fleas. I hate fleas so fucking much I don't even know where to begin.

At that point I said to myself, "Self, that was some strange shit now wasn't?"

I answered back quite promptly. "Indeed. That was some strange shit there Me."

I walked further down the road and saw how all of the people here in this town, were either these sexually fucked peasants, or these cookie-cutter, 3 piece suit, business men that came complete with their hats and glasses, all Clark Kent style. They all seemed to be in a hurry and didn't have much time for me at all so it seemed.

I continued up this road and there at the end of the road, I saw a house that I have only seen in my dreams an old creepy haunted house with a big iron gate and dead overgrown growth. When I looked up, lighting struck and I gave out a loud sinister laugh and decided that this would be my new home. 1313 Mockingbird Lane! Hahahahahahahahah! I hope the Munster's have moved out.